loch

 

she was late, the moon;

knew that I would wait,

by the water, hoping.

 

life drunk, she staggers;

flirting with morning;

greedy for tomorrow.

 

night after night, weary.

high, broke and barefoot;

she holds me; dancing.

 

we leave corpses,

fears like broken moths,

rumours remaining.

 

we rest by the loch;

she brings stories,

long broken heroes,

 

plain folk, saved sailors,

the dangerous sea,

the changing tide.

 

she has tried twice,

things I cannot name;

kisses me goodbye.

 

my days are filled;

a round white sun,

sequins, pearl buttons,

 

my tea cup drained,

a circle mark beneath.

 

the moon calling still.